


Shotgun

by cellphonecharm_au



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Love After Sobriety, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Normalize Cryptid Life in NJ 2020 Challenge, Other tags..., Stoner Frank, and he is always chaotic good, for some reason saporta always makes a cameo in my fics, i don't even listen to cobra starship, i guess Chaotic Good Saporta is my brand, music venue AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellphonecharm_au/pseuds/cellphonecharm_au
Summary: The way to Frank’s heart is through a ride home, and Gerard is (somewhat hesitantly) prepared to threaten him with a good time.A ‘coworkers’ au with a heavy dose of sobriety, and the tiniest dose of horror.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the legend that F & G got high as hell on paint fumes making the set for the vampires vid. lmao. (I've been sitting on this fic for over a year!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS YOUR PROBLEM NOW! hAHAHAHAHAHAHAA) enjoy! -OP

_ you. _ _   
_ _ I know you better than this _ _   
_ _ I could be here when you call. _ _   
_ _ I’ll make you top of the list. _ _   
_ _ And in the crash of the dark, _ _   
_ _ I’ll be your light in the mist. _ _   
_ _ I can see you burning _ _   
_ _ With desire _ _   
_ _ For a kiss  _

_ -’Tigerlily’ by La Roux _

The band walked off the stage and the lights went up. The tinny guitars of generic rock music bled from the PA system, underwhelming after what Frank had just witnessed up onstage. Their guitarist had fucking killed it.    
But the show was over now. The sweaty, drunk crowd began to filter out into the streets in a parade of wrecked makeup, sweat-damp band shirts, and scuffed sneakers - all stale beer and B.O. and perfume.

Frank was technically done for the night. He’d handled doors for hours without a single smoke break and even took over the Will Call list so Mikey could slip off to flirt with the merch girl. _ Girls,  _ actually. There had been more than one he was vaguely interested in tonight. 

They were still flirting by the time Frank made his escape. He found a spot along the wall outside the venue to lean up against while he savored his cigarette. The bricks were a welcome chill against his back. It had gotten so hot inside towards the end during the encore. His ears were still ringing.    
Bob, their resident sound guy, walked past, giving Frank his generic “What’s up?” nod as he went. 

Frank scanned the street. People were climbing into their getaway cars - home, or off to the next thing. Idling engines trailed all the way down the block in a river of break lights. Snippets of conversation drifted Frank’s way on the wind. 

“They were _ amazing. _ ” 

The band _ had _ been amazing. But they usually were. Brian knew how to book a stacked fucking gig. 

Frank’s eyes landed on a dusty silver Subaru parked at the end of the block. The familiar blue glow of the radio in the dash had him forgetting to look both ways before he crossed the street. There was still enough of a crowd on the sidewalk that the car he’d walked right in front of stopped in time. He gave the driver a small wave and looked both ways before crossing the second lane of traffic.

A hand dangled from the Subaru’s open driver’s-side window. Chipped black nail polish and a lit cigarette. The anxious beat his hand was twitching out said Gerard wasn’t looking in the side mirror, which meant he hadn’t seen Frank coming yet. 

Frank quickened his pace, hugging the shadows of the empty warehouse across the street. Frank recognized the song Gerard was listening to. Slayer, unmistakably. 

Frank strolled up to the car window and bent down, getting as close to Gerard as he could. He quickly rested a hand on Gerard’s arm.

“ _ Boo! _ ” he intoned. 

Gerard sucked in a startled breath and dropped his smoke. He looked pissed for about 2 seconds before his expression melted into something between recognition and relief. 

“Hey Frankie.” he said. 

“‘Sup?” Frank asked. 

“Waiting for Mikey, as usual.” Gerard sighed, “And some dickhead just made me drop my smoke.” 

“My bad.” Frank grinned, “Hold this.” 

Frank passed his still-lit cigarette over to Gerard, who wordlessly brought it to his lips and took a puff. 

Frank reached for his pack, and pulled out a fresh one for Gerard. They traded. Gerard took the fresh one, and Frank took the half-smoked one back. 

“I think you might be waiting awhile.” Frank informed, watching Gerard’s face glow as he flicked his lighter and lit up, “There’s a pretty fucking cute merch girl in there.” 

Gerard rolled his eyes as he exhaled. 

“I swear,” Gerard said, reaching over to turn the music down so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice to talk over it, “It’s like he has no fucking clue I have stuff I’d rather be doing.” 

Gerard pulled out his phone. 

“Oh.  _ Great. _ ” Gerard breathed, “He just texted me to tell me that I don’t have to pick him up at all tonight.” 

“She seemed pretty fucking cool.” Frank shrugged. 

“Oh. I’m sure.” Gerard nodded, “‘ _ Couldn’t-have-texted-me-20-minutes-ago _ ’ cool, I guess?”

Frank nodded. 

“Alright. Well…” Gerard sighed. His keys jingled as he fumbled to start the engine, “Guess I’m goin’ home then.” 

“See ya.” Frank said, giving Gerard a small wave. 

“Later.” Gerard nodded back, cigarette still dangling from his lips. 

Frank flicked the end of his cigarette onto the sidewalk and started walking, while trying to fish is headphones out of his backpack. He heard Gerard start the engine, and turn the volume back up on the Slayer.    
Frank’s headphone cord had wrapped around the metal spiral of his notebook and he stopped under a streetlight to untangle it. The crunch of metal guitars rolled down the block as Gerard made his getaway, like the rest of the show-goers, in the slowly flowing river of traffic. 

Frank sighed as he finally freed the headphones and plugged them into his Ipod. He wrapped them around his neck while he dug around in his pockets for bus fare. 

By the time he got to the bus stop he was rubbing the change together, with only one side of the headphones actually on his ear, hoping that he hadn’t missed the 1:17am bus. The next bus wasn’t for another forty five minutes. He hadn’t picked a song yet. His ears were still ringing from the show. Frank leaned against the streetlight and stared down at the holes in his sneakers. 

A few other stragglers from the show were waiting for the same bus. He started to eavesdrop but decided against it when he noticed how drunk they all sounded. A few hours of working the door always made Frank tired of listening to drunk people. 

He liked talking to Gerard at the end of the night, even if it was for a few fleeting moments here and there as Mikey climbed into the dirty subaru and started rummaging through CDs. Unlike everyone else streaming out of the venue, Gerard was always awake, and sober, and he almost never wanted to talk about music and bands. 

It had taken Frank a while to figure out that the guy who’d been picking Mikey up from work every night was his brother, rather than his boyfriend. Mikey got pretty much everyone he wanted, so the assumption had only been natural. Why wouldn’t the pretty goth guy waiting for Mikey outside the venue most nights  _ belong  _ to Mikey? It took Frank a while to come to terms with reality after Mikey had mentioned that they were brothers. Brothers, in their mid and late twenties (respectively), both still living with their parents. They shared the car. Gerard could take it wherever he liked on nights Mikey worked, as long as he picked Mikey up after the show.    
Sharing a car didn’t seem like such a bad deal, compared to taking the fucking bus every night. A goth older brother with a license seemed fucking  _ convenient _ actually. 

The ear that wasn’t covered by his headphones picked up on the rumble of Slayer as a car passed. It got louder, and louder. The bass rattled the woofers inside the doors. When Frank glanced up, he found the dirty Subaru idling in front of him, stopped in the middle of the street. He had to blink a few times to be sure he wasn’t imagining it. The music got even louder as Gerard rolled down the passenger side window. 

“Where do you live?” Gerard asked over the music. 

Frank glanced at the other people waiting at the bus stop before stepping up to the car and saying, “Hey Gerard.” 

He didn’t want them to think Gerard was some creep trying to pick Frank up. He felt the need to establish that they knew each other from somewhere. 

“I already drove all the way out here.” Gerard said, “There’s no reason to let a perfectly good ride home go to waste.” 

“You wanna give me a ride home?” Frank asked. 

“Unless you’re hell-bent on taking the bus.” Gerard quipped. He was still smoking the cigarette Frank had given him. 

Frank pulled open the passenger side door and threw his backpack on the floor. He had to ease himself in carefully, minding the empty soda bottles and CD cases.  _ So many fucking CD cases _ . He glanced out the window at the people still waiting for the bus as Gerard put the car in drive. He had half a thought to wave goodbye to them. 

“So, cross streets?” Gerard asked, turning the music down. 

Frank was so distracted by the fact that he’d never actually been inside their car before. He’d forgotten all about  _ why  _ he was in their car. 

“Oh. Sorry.” Frank said, “Uh, corner of 30th and Graves.” 

“Graves.” Gerard repeated, “Direct me?” 

“Sure.” Frank said, “Is it okay if I smoke in here?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard scoffed, “Only if you got another one for me, though.” 

Frank handed one over. 

“Also, thank you?” Frank said, “For the ride.” 

“Don’t thank me yet...” Gerard said, bringing both of his hands to his face. He cupped his smoke with one hand and held the lighter with the other. Frank nearly had a heart attack as Gerard reached for the wheel to keep it straight. 

“There’s no guarantee I won’t kill us both.” Gerard finished, exhaling tendrils of smoke.   
~ 

Gerard was actually a terrifying driver. His car was just as terrifying. It squeaked loudly when he took a left too hard, and it literally fucking died when it was stalled at a red light. It didn’t help that Gerard had a hard time restarting it.    
He was one of those Dungeons and Dragons nerds, and he loved to talk about said dungeons and their dragons, expressively - with his hands. This meant he let go of the wheel quite a bit, almost every time Frank asked him a question. 

Frank learned to keep his hands off the wheel pretty quick, though. Gerard liked to talk with a cigarette in his hands. Frank very nearly avoided having the back of his hand repurposed as an ashtray more than once. The first time, to reach for the wheel. The second time, when he’d turned the music down to tell Gerard he needed to turn left. And with the terrifying squeaks coming from the car, he’d lost count after that. 

On top of it all, Frank was sort of freaking out about being alone with Mikey’s hot, weird older brother. He’s never been around someone who was such an even mix of the two. He had a feeling Gerard was  _ very _ off limits, but he hadn’t decided how much he cared. 

Gerard let him pick the music, and bought him a soda at the gas station, and literally stopped looking at the road in front of him to look at Frank on more than one occasion. Gerard had also gone around the block to pick Frank up and take him home. There was no way Frank was misreading the situation. 

“Didn’t you say you had… other stuff you were doing tonight?” Frank asked after a while. He couldn’t let it go. 

“Oh.” Gerard scoffed, “Yeah well. I primed a canvas before I left the house. I had to wait for it to dry, which is usually fuckin’ torture. _ Literally watching paint dry, you know?  _ So the timing was kind of perfect on Mikey’s part. It’s probably dry by now.” 

“Canvas?” Frank asked, “You paint?” 

“Sort of.” Gerard smirked. A private joke, obviously. He didn’t explain it to Frank. 

The houses were starting to look more and more familiar. They were in Frank’s neighborhood. He’d be home soon. He was sort of bummed at the realization. Mikey had a cool merch girl, and Frank was about to go home alone. 

“Hang a right at the next light.” Frank yawned. He was pretty exhausted. He glanced at the clock on the dash. It was pushing 2am. 

Gerard was quiet as they pulled onto Graves. The CD had ended, and neither of them had bothered to put something else in. Frank glanced out the window at the houses rolling by, trying to find his bravery. 

“There’s a bar around the corner from my place.” Frank said, trying his best to come across casually, “Last call isn’t for another hour. You wanna grab a drink?” 

Gerard didn’t say anything right away. Frank swallowed. He couldn’t look over. 

He waited Gerard out, not sure what the fuck he was supposed to do without a response. How could he backtrack out of what he’d just asked? More importantly, how could he make sure Mikey never found out about it? 

“I don’t uh…” Gerard faltered, “I don’t drink.” 

“Oh. Right. You gotta drive home.” Frank said conversationally. 

“No, Frank. It’s like…” Gerard sighed, “I just don’t…  _ do that. _ I’m not really like that anymore.” 

Like what? Frank didn’t know. He saw his apartment building in the distance like a shiny, shiny life raft thrown out to save him from drowning in embarrassment. 

“Canvases to paint.” Frank offered. 

“Uh. Yeah.” Gerard agreed. 

“This is me.” Frank said, pointing to his building, “The castle-looking one.” 

“You live in a castle on  _ Graves street. _ ” Gerard verbalized under his breath. He sounded kind of impressed. Something to do with Dungeons and Dragons, if Frank had to guess. 

“Yeah.” Frank smiled, “Uh, I do.” 

Gerard pulled off to the side of the road and put the car in park. 

“Will you do me a favor?” Gerard asked quietly. 

“Sure.” Frank said, finally turning to look at him. 

“Will you pick out something for me to listen to on the drive back?” Gerard requested, eyeing Frank. 

Oh. Right. 

“Sure.” Frank said, bending down to grab a handful of CD cases. Most of the CDs weren’t put back in the right case. Frank opened Metallica only to find  _ Madonna _ . They both started with ‘M,’ close enough. 

He lifted the disk out of the case and swapped it in for the CD that had already been in the slot. 

Gerard gave Frank a surprised, calculating look as the first song started. It quickly melted away into a genuine, warm smile. He definitely wasn’t upset with Frank, Frank noted. People didn’t smile like that when they were upset. 

“Thanks Frankie.” Gerard said, “I’ll see you around.” 

“I’ll-” Frank faltered, “Okay yeah. Good night, man. Thanks for the ride. You didn’t kill us.”

Gerard smiled even brighter. 

Frank opened the passenger door and stepped out of the car. He slung his backpack over his shoulder. 

He tossed Gerard a little wave after he’d closed the door and taken a step back. Gerard waved back with a pale hand. He turned the music up. Frank mostly just heard the bass through the body of the car. 

Frank turned towards his building and fumbled for his keys, equal parts anxious and relieved. He pretended he couldn’t hear the sound of Gerard’s stereo system dissipating as he drove away. He banged his head against the inside wall of the elevator car as it hummed on it’s way up to Frank’s floor. It wasn’t the first time he’d been turned down, and it certainly hadn’t been the last. He’d survived. 

“It wasn’t  _ that  _ weird.” Frank said out loud to himself once he was safely inside his apartment, leaning against the locked front door, “I just asked him if he wanted to get a drink. That doesn’t have to mean anything. It  _ didn’t _ mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything.” His roommate’s voice intoned in agreement.

Frank’s head shot up in horror. Toro was sprawled out on the couch with a video game controller in his lap. He smirked at Frank. 

“You ask me if I wanna get a drink all the time, dude.” Toro added, a touch sardonic, “It doesn’t mean shit.” 

“Right.” Frank breathed, “Yeah. You’re right. It doesn’t mean shit.” 

“I know. Yeah.” Toro said, “That’s what I just said.” 

Frank nodded and crossed the room. He collapsed in the armchair beside the couch and reached for the second controller on the coffee table. 

“One question.” Ray requested. 

Frank groaned. 

“Who were you talking about?” Ray asked. 

“Nobody.” Frank said. 

“That’s what I thought.” Ray chuckled, pausing his game and going to the menu to let a second player join in on a new game, “Anyways, how was work?” 

~

_  
  
_

“Hey Frank, how’re you getting home tonight?” Mikey asked a few nights later. Frank had slipped back to the green room to grab his jacket. The younger Way had him corned. 

“The usual.” Frank shrugged, trying to act natural, “Why?” 

“It’s pissing rain.” Mikey informed, glancing from Frank, to his phone, and back, “My brother wants to know if you want a ride home.” 

Frank froze. Gerard had texted  _ Mikey _ to ask if he wanted a ride home. Frank tried to deduce how much Mikey knew about the other night, but the younger Way’s expression was unreadably neutral, as always. 

“Uh. Yeah.” Frank said casually, “If he’s offering…” 

“He’s offering.” Mikey said, the corner of his lip twitching in an almost smile. 

“Alright.” Frank said, “Let me just make sure we’re good to go. Schecter said the numbers weren’t adding up right.” 

“They added up just fine.” Mikey said, “I counted twice. Let’s go.” 

_  
  
_

The subaru sparkled under the streetlights. The engine purred. Even with all the windows up, Frank could hear Gerard’s music, loud and fast and angry. It left Frank with more questions than answers. 

“Shotgun.” Mikey mumbled. 

Gerard turned down his music as Frank and Mikey got in the car. Frank was grateful for the excuse to take the back seat. He wouldn’t have to pick any music, and Gerard wouldn’t be able to look at him with those big, pretty eyes. 

“Hey Frank.” Gerard said, glancing at Frank in the rear-view mirror. So much for avoiding the big, pretty eyes. 

“Hey.” Frank echoed, as neutral and cheery as he could manage. 

Mikey was already shuffling through the CD cases looking for something to play, oblivious to the moment altogether. 

Frank didn’t say much this time. Gerard seemed more focused on driving than talking, and with the way the rain was coming down, Frank was just fine with that. 

The car quickly got hazy with cigarette smoke and Gerard cracked all the windows so he could see the road better. As a result, a fat rain drop occasionally splattered against the back of Frank’s hand, but he couldn’t complain. He was much drier than he would’ve been otherwise. 

His hands were folded calmly in his lap. He felt safe and warm, which didn’t fit with the way Gerard dove. Dying in a car crash with Gerard and Mikey definitely wasn’t the worst way to go. 

And how come he and Mikey never hung out outside of work? Hot, disinterested, goth older brothers aside, Frank liked being around the Ways. They were both too lost in their own heads to be anything other than honest and genuine. 

They were stopped at a red light. Frank stared blankly at the back of Gerard’s head. Tendrils of smoke curled around the profile of his messy black hair. 

When he glanced up to the rearview mirror, he was surprised to find Gerard’s eyes staring right back into his. The CD Mikey had put on came to a lull. The car was quiet. 

Frank cleared his throat, trying to chase away the nervous feeling in his chest. 

“Your car would look so much cooler with flames running down the sides.” he commented. 

“ _ Oooooooooh. _ ” Mikey approved, “It’s not _ his _ car, it’s  _ our  _ car. But you’re right, Frank.” 

Gerard’s gaze flitted around as he seemed to consider this, and then the light turned green and he was focused on the road again. 

Before Frank could say anything else, the next song came on. Apparently Gerard liked it because he turned the volume up a little further than Frank had realized was possible. 

They came up on Frank’s building sooner than he wanted to. He tried to form the words to ask if he could just go wherever the Way’s were going next. He wanted more time with them, however he could get it. 

“Thanks again for the ride.” Frank said, leaning forward so he wouldn’t have to strain his voice so much to talk over the music, “You want gas money or something?” 

“Gerard practically  _ begged me  _ to let us drive you home.” Mikey said, “Make him pay for the gas.” 

Frank pretended he didn’t notice the way Gerard shoved Mikey’s arm. 

And that meant he hadn’t read this wrong at all. His eyes met Gerard’s in the rearview mirror again. Gerard looked away. 

The rain pelted down on the roof of the car, thick and heavy like fucking rocks. Frank could hear it over the thrum of the music. 

“Alright, well uh, I owe you one man.” Frank said, “Like, seriously.” 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothin’.” Gerard waved off. 

“You guys get home safe, alright?” Frank said, ruffling Mikey’s hair as he slid out of the back seat. It had already been ruined by the rain, so the younger Way wouldn’t completely  _ destroy _ Frank the next time they worked the same show. 

It was raining so hard, the shoulders of Frank’s hoodie were soaked through by the time he’d managed to dash into the apartment building. 

“You’re… surprisingly dry?” Toro commented, taking in Frank’s appearance as he walked in. 

“‘Kiss your mother with that mouth?” Frank asked. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Toro scoffed, “‘You take a cab?” 

“Mikey’s brother gave me a ride home.” Frank said, trying to keep his voice neutral. 

“Mikey has a brother?” Toro asked, pausing his video game, “Since when?” 

“Since he was born.” Frank said, ducking into the kitchenette to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“What’s his name?” Toro asked, “Do I know him?” 

“Nobody.” Frank said, cracking the beer, “His name’s nobody and you don’t know him.” 

“Ah. Yes. _ Nobody. _ ” Toro said meaningfully, “A dignified name. Still doesn’t wanna get a drink I presume? You’re home kind of early...” 

“I thought drinks don’t mean anything?” Frank glared. 

“They  _ don’t. _ ” Toro said, “So maybe... you mean something?” 

“ _ Nice save. _ ” Frank mumbled, blushing as he took a long swig. 

~

“Gerard wants to show you something.” Mikey informed, catching Frank as he was grabbing his backpack from the back room a few nights later. 

Frank wasn’t sure what his face was doing as he tried to come up with a neutral response. If only Mikey knew how to start off conversations like a normal person, with normal intros like  _ “Hey.” _ or  _ “What’s up?”  _

“Like, now.” Mikey added, “Well, he’s here now. You can make him wait though.” 

“Let’s just get out of here.” Frank suggested and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

They crossed the stage in the dark showroom. Mikey jumped off the stage and landed on the empty dance floor with a thud that echoed through the empty room. Frank maneuvered around and took the stairs on the side. 

Brian looked up from the desk in the box office. Frank gave him a small wave as they shouldered out the door. 

The bands had already packed up and left, but there were still a few stragglers hanging out smoking out front. 

Gerard was leaning against the hood of his car in a leather jacket, staring off into space and smoking. Metal was blasting out of the open windows. He looked like a highschool badass in a fucking teen drama. 

The car wasn’t a dirty silver anymore. There were fucking  _ flames _ , licking all the way from the hood to the exhaust pipe. They’d been done in black paint. Not the kind you were supposed to paint the body of a car with, probably, but the Ways weren’t the type to care, apparently. 

Mikey lit a cigarette as they stood in the empty street. Frank ran his fingers over the paint. 

Gerard wordlessly passed his cigarette to Frank. Frank fumbled the smoke between his fingers and took a drag. He tried to avoid thinking of it as an indirect kiss, even though that was exactly what it felt like.

“You painted fucking flames on your car.” Frank stated the obvious, exhaling cigarette smoke, “ _ Already. _ ” 

“Gotta strike while the iron’s hot.” Gerard shrugged. 

“This is fucking awesome, man.” Frank beamed, passing Gerard his cigarette back. 

Gerard looked away, bashful, and ran his free hand through his messy black hair. 

“That’s one way to describe it.” Mikey said, “So you wanna catch a ride with us, or what?” 

“Uh yeah. You could take me anywhere in this thing.” Frank said, watching the younger way slide into the back seat. 

Frank reached for the passenger side door, but not before he caught a curious look from Gerard, who’d dropped his previous badass composure. The corner of his mouth twitched into a nervous smile before he turned away, fumbling in his pockets for his keys. 

~

It was a small acoustic set for a local band. Mikey wasn’t working the show. It was just Brian and Frank, and then Bob on security duty. The crowd was pretty tame. Frank even stood at the back of the showroom and caught the last couple of songs. The box office had been closed out. The money had been counted up. The bathrooms were already clean, too. He’d gotten Bob to refresh the supply of paper towels in exchange for two cigarettes. It had been a worthwhile transaction. Frank hated getting the paper towel dispensers open. The key always stuck in the shitty little lock on the top. 

As soon as the band was done, all Frank had to do was sweep and take off. He was looking forward to getting home, actually. The band’s guitarist was really good. Their performance had left Frank itching for his own fretboard. 

He was walking to the bus stop after locking up, thinking about texting Ray to see if he wanted to Jam when he got home. As he got to the end of the block, he spotted a dirty silver subaru with peeling black paint idling on the corner. The flames had started to chip off, leaving a jagged shape much more nightmarish in appearance. 

Curious, Frank walked up to the driver’s side window and tapped on the glass. Gerard was staring at his phone and smoking, as usual. He smiled and turned down his music as he noticed Frank. 

The window whirred down. A waft of cigarette smoke bellowed out. 

“Uh. Hey.” Frank said. 

“Hey.” Gerard said back. 

“What’s… up?” Frank asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Gerard shrugged, “Haven’t been able to sleep so good.” 

“So…” Frank said. 

“So I thought I’d give you a lift.” Gerard said, “If you wanted one. Mikey said you were working tonight.” 

“Seriously?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah.” Gerard said, “Also, our mom asked if I would pick up some milk because I used the rest of it as... paint water. I guess she needed it for some late night baking? I don’t know. She was pissed, so I left.” 

“Paint water?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah. Get in.” Gerard said. 

Frank shook his head as he circled the car. He was sort of nervous about being alone with Gerard, without Mikey to neutralize things. 

“Do you paint with milk a lot?” Frank asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Yeah.” Gerard said neutrally, “Well, with milk, no. But paint, yes. It’s kind of… what I went to school for.” 

“No shit.” Frank said, “I guess that explains the nightmare flames.” 

Gerard huffed out a breath of a laugh. 

There was a sort of stiffness to the atmosphere inside of the car. Gerard had left the music turned down. He drummed the steering wheel nervously at the first red light. 

“So… where do you usually buy milk?” Frank asked conversationally. 

“I… don’t?” Gerard answered, “I don’t like milk.” 

The music venue was in an old warehouse, on the shitty side of town, where the rent was cheap. The area had been an industrial wasteland for decades. There weren’t any fucking grocery stores for miles. There weren’t even corner stores, really. He wasn’t sure where Gerard even intended to go to buy milk. There weren’t a lot of options on the way to Frank’s apartment either. 

Either Gerard got very strange and elaborate with his lies, or he actually hadn’t considered this. Frank wasn’t really sure if it was the former or the latter. This whole situation perplexed Frank. Gerard didn’t want to get a drink with Frank, but he wanted to pick Frank up from work? And then engage in awkward, painful conversation? 

Frank tapped out a text to Ray about jamming as the neighborhoods passed by. 

“How was the show?” Gerard asked. 

“Awesome actually.” Frank gushed, snapping his phone shut, “They really like, left me wanting more. I was totally impressed. Probably gonna jam when I get home. Got a riff in my head.” 

“What do you play?” Gerard asked. 

“Guitar mostly.” Frank said, “But not exclusively.” 

“Ah, cool.” Gerard said, back to awkward and stiff. 

They were stopped at a light. 

“Maybe… I could show you some stuff I wrote.” Frank said, “You could show me your paintings or something. Art for art?” 

“You show me yours. I show you mine.” Gerard reiterated. He visibly deflated as he realized what he’d said. He hit his forehead against the steering wheel as Frank laughed. 

“Uh. Yeah.  _ Okay.” _ Frank said, “Whatever, you know?” 

“Come buy milk with me.” Gerard said, taking a turn off their usual route to the castle on Graves. 

It wasn’t until Gerard had parked the car, that Frank realized he hadn’t seen much of Gerard away from the car. That was entirely Gerard’s fault, of course. Frank followed alongside Gerard, into the store. And once they were inside, he realized he hadn’t seen Gerard bathed in so much light, maybe ever? There were cracks in his leather jacket, his hair was kind of greasy, and against the off-white linoleum, he looked fucking _ dark _ , like he’d brought the night inside with him. Frank had maybe bitten off more than he could chew - because he liked what he saw, and at some point, he’d stopped trying to deny it to himself. 

“So what’s your mom like?” Frank asked once they were in the dairy aisle. 

“Ma?” Gerard asked absently, “She’s great. She’s put up with a lot...” 

“A lot of paint in her milk, apparently.” Frank said. 

“Yeah.” Gerard agreed, “I’ve been kind of a pain in the ass lately...” 

“Yeah?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah.” Gerard sighed.    
He reached for a carton of milk. 

“Mikey wants ice cream.” Gerard added thoughtfully, “He doesn’t deserve it, but I was gonna take the car out tomorrow night so I gotta butter him up somehow…” 

“What’re you doing tomorrow night?” Frank asked conversationally. 

“I just… there’s this thing I gotta do…” Gerard answered vaguely. 

Frank let it drop and followed Gerard to the frozen food aisle.

They passed a few couples with shopping carts full of shit, deliberating on which brand of oatmeal to buy, or if they were out of sriracha. Gerard was too goth, and Frank too much of a punk-ass, for them to read as anything other than friends to the other customers, but now the thought was there. 

Gerard chewed on his thumbnail as he considered the ice cream selection.

“What kind does Mikey like?” Frank asked. 

“Depends…” Gerard sighed, “If he’s just gotten dumped? Strawberry. But if he’s being a little bitch he likes something a little fancy, like gelato, or something with brownie pieces in it.” 

“ _ Artisanal _ .” Frank snorted. 

“Yeah, exactly.” Gerard agreed, “You get it.” 

“So borrowing the car makes him… dumped, or a little bitch?” Frank asked. 

“Little bitch, no contest.” Gerard said. 

On the drive from the “milk store,” as Gerard called it after their excursion, Frank had worked on getting the courage together to invite Gerard up to his apartment again. It took a little bit of thought. How covered was the coffee table in beer bottles and soda cans? What were the odds that Toro would be stoned out of his mind playing xbox? What would he do with Gerard once he had him alone? 

Eventually, the castle on Graves St. rolled into view. Frank reached out a hand to turn down the 

“So…” Frank said, clearing his throat, “Do you wanna come hang out for a little bit? I think my roommate is home. He’s cool and he uh, he knows Mikey.” 

Gerard was quiet for a beat. 

“I’d love to.” Gerard said, “But this ice cream’ll melt if I leave it…” 

“We have a freezer.” Frank snorted. 

“My mom is waiting on me…” Gerard added hesitantly, “Her baking, you know? Sorry, Frank. Maybe next time?” 

“Sure.” Frank said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, “Next time.” 

“I’d really…” Gerard sighed, “Like that.” 

“Me too.” Frank said, with feeling, “Uh, thanks for the ride man.”

Frank hesitated a moment before reaching for the handle on the door. He wanted an explanation. Why would Gerard bother to come pick him up from work in the middle of the night when Mikey wasn’t even around? What did he want from Frank, if not this? 

“Get home safe, okay?” Frank said instead. 

“I will.” Gerard said, “Thanks for coming to the milk store with me.” 

Frank could hear the purr of the engine as he walked away from the car, patting down his pockets for his keys as he went. He wondered if Gerard was watching Frank, or if he was just picking another CD. Frank didn’t turn around to find out. 

Inside, Toro was exactly as Frank expected him to be. His eyes were bloodshot, and not just from staring at the TV screen. Frank reached for the bong as he sat down next to Toro. There was still a hit left, easily. The hit he took made his eyes water. 

“Why do guys have to be so confusing?” Frank asked, choking a little on his smokey words.

Toro snorted. 

“Still doesn’t wanna get a drink, huh?” Toro asked. 

“But he gave me a ride home?” Frank mused, running his hands through his hair, “He just showed up when the show was over? I didn’t even ask if he wanted to get a drink, just if he wanted to come hang out. I said you’d be here. Thinking… I don’t know? Maybe that would take the pressure off.” 

“Damn.” Ray said simply. The poor guy was too stoned for this. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Frank asked, “I feel like… this is some kind of game and I don’t know how to play.” 

“Chicks dig it when I act all aloof.” Toro offered, “Maybe he’s trying to impress you.” 

“The thing is… I don’t wanna be impressed.” Frank said. 

~

_  
  
_

When Frank had been checking his e-mail half stoned in his boxers the weekend before, he hadn’t noticed Schechter had scheduled him to work a stacked fucking metal show. It had been a pleasant surprise. Sweaty and blissed out, he snuck out the back to smoke a cigarette before the headliner. The cool air lapped at his skin. He almost wished he’d grabbed his hoodie.  _ Almost. _ He’d stashed it in the office and Schecter would’ve definitely asked what he was up to and tasked him with something or other. As he patted down his pockets though, he realized he didn’t have a fucking lighter. 

“Our job is actually like, so cool sometimes.” Mikey’s voice came through the dark, “Do you ever just… realize?” 

“Are you high?” Frank snorted, around the cigarette dangling from his lips, “How long have you been standing there?” 

Mikey’s lighter appeared in the dark of the alley. Frank leaned forward to light the end of his smoke. 

“Maybe.” the younger Way intoned, “And not long. Wanted to talk to you, actually.” 

“To me?” Frank asked, exhaling smoke. 

“Yeah. About my brother…” Mikey said. 

“He picking you up later?” Frank asked casually, realization coming up over him like a wave. Gerard had definitely mentioned the ‘getting drinks thing’ then, or rather, the ‘not getting drinks’ thing. And then maybe the milk store thing, too. 

“Yeah.” Mikey said neutrally, “Listen. Just... He’s been through a lot. I need you to be careful with him.” 

Frank tried to frown at Mikey in the darkness, scandalized. 

“Mikey, dude,” Frank sighed, “Listen, we haven’t even-” 

“ _ I know. _ I know more than I want to, honestly.” Mikey interrupted, a touch of fond annoyance in his voice, “I just need to make sure you understand... He gets kind of intense when he realizes he wants something.” 

“Uh.” Frank faltered. He hadn’t gotten the memo, clearly. Gerard had showed little interest in Frank, let alone anything that could’ve been classified as genuine  _ want.  _

“I think you could make him happy.  _ Honestly. _ ” Mikey said, “But make sure that’s what you wanna do before you go after him.” 

“Oh… kay.” Frank said slowly. 

“Hope you don’t scare easy.” Mikey added. 

~

_  
  
_

It turned out Schecter had been right about the numbers being off. They were definitely off, but off in a _ good way.  _ The venue was doing well. Turnout for shows had been high. They were booking bands that sold out at least one night a week. With the extra money, they had some to spare for repairs. 

This, of course, only complicated things for the staff. Extra cash meant that Brian wanted to make improvements to the venue - which meant more work for Frank and Mikey. This would eventually translate to extra cash, but until payday it just meant more work. 

The bathrooms all got updated locks and paint jobs. Frank painted dicks and Mikey went over them with the roller until they were gone. Frank could still see the outlines if he squatted down to make the light hit them just right.. 

The green room in the back got new couches. Well, thrifted couches, but they didn’t smell like beer and pizza puke.    
Bob had to build a new counter space for the box office. The cracked glass was replaced with a newer piece that no longer needed to be re-taped every time it rained. The new pane was bulletproof as well. Schecter had said it was a necessary step, even though Frank felt safer in the venue’s neighborhood than most of the neighborhoods he’d lived in. 

On top of everything Frank had been scheduled to come in on a Monday fucking morning. Brian never booked shows on Monday fucking mornings, which could only mean Frank was there to help with repairs. 

He showed up 30 minutes late in defiance, and stoned as fuck for good measure, with a latte and vegan donut in-hand. Drop cloths covered the floor-space that lined the stage. Schecter was on a ladder taping covers over the lights, while Bob rolled sound equipment out of the way. 

Gerard sat in the center of the stage, stirring up a can of black paint. 

“Sup?” Frank said, taking a sip of his latte. 

“Schecter thinks my painting degree means I’m perfect for re-painting this stage.” Gerard offered. 

“Shut up, Way.” Schecter said, “You told me you needed extra cash.” 

“When you said you needed help painting I thought you meant like, murals and shit.” Gerard shrugged, “Not this.” 

“Have you guys seen the flames Gerard painted on his car?” Frank asked, “They’re badass.” 

Schecter raised an eyebrow at Frank, and that was the closest he came to dignifying him with a response. 

“So what am I supposed to do?” Frank asked, “Why am I here?” 

“Just help Gerard.” Schecter snorted, stepping down from the ladder.

“But I don’t have a painting degree.” Frank pointed out. 

“Just… do whatever Gerard says, then.” Brian shrugged, “Bob and I gotta go to the hardware store to pick up a few things. And then we may have secured a new mixing board and some other things. Bob found a post on the internet about an old venue clearing out. It’s across town. So, we’ll be back later.” 

“Later guys.” Gerard called after them. 

“Gerard, you’re the adult.” Bob called back, “So you’re in charge.” 

Bob and Schecter filed outside. Brian already had a cigarette in his mouth before the door was closed. 

The posters that had once littered the walls had been taken down in preparation for painting, and the place looked barren and wrong without them. Frank circled around a few times, taking in the emptiness. He was never here when it was this quiet, this empty. It made him sad in a way. Without Mikey and Schecter and Brian and bands and fans, it was just a place. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Gerard asked, snapping Frank out of his wondering. He’d set down the paint stir stick and was giving Frank a curious look. 

“It’s too quiet here.” Frank offered, taking a few steps towards the stage to take in the paint set up. Standard issue. Rollers, paint pans, detail brushes, and about a million miles of blue tape as well. 

“I’m kinda glad I’m not here by myself.” Gerard said, tipping the bucket of paint over one of the pans, “This place kinda freaks me out.” 

“Why?” Frank asked immediately. 

Gerard set the bucket down and gave Frank a look.

“Don’t laugh.” Gerard said, “But me and Mikes have a theory that it’s haunted.” 

“Haunted?” Frank asked. 

“This place is so old, you know?” Gerard explained, “Some shit probably went down here at some point.” 

“Isn’t that like… everywhere in Jersey?” Frank asked, finding a spot to tuck away his latte where he wouldn’t forget about it and knock it over.

“I guess?” Gerard agreed, handing Frank a cup of black paint and a brush, “Will you fill in between the switch covers over there? I can’t hit those with the roller.” 

Gerard had no idea Bob didn’t trust Frank with the sound system, and for good reason, but he obeyed Gerard’s directions all the same. How badly could he fuck things up with a little cup of paint and a few brush strokes, anyways? 

Frank settled into focusing on the task at hand. He could already tell the day would be dragging and endless, even with Gerard around. 

About 20 minutes into squinting at the layer of black paint he was applying over the already black paint, he glanced over at Gerard. 

“So… if you were gonna paint a mural, what would it be?” Frank asked conversationally.

Gerard’s eyes immediately went somewhere very far away. 

“Is ‘Zombies’ too cliche of an answer?” he asked after a beat, “Because, zombies.” 

Frank grinned. 

“It would look like the crowd extended on and on into the wall.” Gerard explained, “Make the room look bigger and shit.” 

Frank nodded, thoughtfully looking around the space. 

“Or a cool battle scene.” Gerard continued, “Dragon on the ceiling, too. Knights. Maybe some goblins. They’d get covered up by show flyers though, wouldn’t they?” 

“Yeah.” Frank agreed, picturing black flames from the dragon’s mouth burning up to the stage. He couldn’t say much about Gerard’s art, but the one thing he could say was that Gerard knew how to paint flames. 

“So like… are you more of a mage or an elf?” Frank asked after another 20 minutes had painstakingly slipped by. 

“Technically elves can wear mage armor, so they can be both.” Gerard said immediately, “But I typically go the assassin archer route.” 

Frank couldn’t even make fun of Gerard for having that answer on the ready. He’d technically asked. 

“What about you?” Gerard asked. 

“I don’t know.” Frank said, “You tell me...” 

When Frank turned around, Gerard was appraising him thoughtfully. Frank promptly turned back to the safety of the paint. Gerard didn’t have to focus on the road, which meant he was free to focus on Frank. It was still weird being with Gerard, not in Gerard’s car. 

_ Mikey and Gerard’s car _ , Frank corrected himself. 

“I can’t tell if you’d like being… a cleric?” Gerard mused, “Or maybe just a classic knight?” 

“Cleric?” Frank scoffed, “Isn’t that a healer?” 

“Somethin’ wrong with that?” Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s not as cool as an assassin.” Frank suggested, “With a bow and arrow.” 

“But it’s  _ so important. _ ” Gerard fired back, “Like, crucial.” 

“You’d give an important role to someone with the attention span of a gnat.” Frank laughed. 

“The Cleric is nice because it’s so easy to tell when you’re helping people.” Gerard said. 

“Sounds like you should be a cleric.” Frank said, “And I should be the archer.” 

~

Frank had helped Bob carry the old couch into the alley behind the dumpsters in the middle of last week, when the thrifted couches had arrived. It had rained on the old cushions and then dried out all crusty in the sun the following morning. The fabric covering the seat cushions had seen better days. Frank couldn’t help but sigh as he took in the sight. In the light of the midday sun it looked more worn out than ever. 

The first time Frank had  _ met  _ Mikey they’d been sitting on that couch. Frank had passed out on it many times, too drunk to find his way home. He’d even kissed a cute bass player before a gig a few months ago in the arms of the dusty old cushions. 

Brian had found a slightly less worn out sectional at a thrift store and replaced the old thing. They could make new memories on the new couch. It still felt more like an end more than a beginning, though. 

When they agreed that it was time for a smoke break, it seemed only fitting that Gerard should lead them straight to the old couch. As Frank watched him fearlessly drop onto the damp cushions, he realized it was just a couch to Gerard. Frank sparked his hastily rolled joint after he’d flopped down just as bravely, next to Gerard. 

He passed it in Gerard’s direction, but Gerard waved him off, mumbling about how he had to drive later. 

“Where are you going after this?” Frank asked on the first exhale, still kind of buzzing with paint fumes. He leaned his head back against the back of the couch and stared up at the old red bricks of the alley lining the sky above them. 

“I don’t know.” Gerard said, picking at the threadbare arm rest. Little bits of foam crumbled off where the fabric had worn away completely, “Why?” 

“I don’t know.” Frank mused, flicking the ash off the end of his joint, “I just don’t want to go home… I guess? The night’s young. I don’t have work tomorrow.” 

“Where do you wanna go?” Gerard asked. 

“Anywhere...” Frank said. 

When Frank lifted his head up, Gerard was giving him a curious look. He seemed so much closer all of a sudden. Frank was sure Gerard hadn’t moved since he’d looked up, but his head was swimming with the closeness all the same. 

“Well… Um.” Gerard said, “Okay.” 

That sounded a lot like hesitancy, Frank thought. 

Gerard was staring at him. Frank stared back, trying to read the look in his eyes. In the fading sunlight, it occurred to him that he’d never seen Gerard in actual fucking daylight before. His eyes were lighter than Frank had realized, warm and hazel. 

“Frank…” Gerard sighed. 

Frank brought the joint back up to his lips and inhaled, still staring Gerard down. As he exhaled he tried to blow it in the opposite direction from Gerard. Gerard smiled at the gesture. 

Frank let himself lean in an inch or two, thinking they should kiss. Blame it on the paint fumes. He wasn’t sure when he’d ever be alone with Gerard like this again. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever have Gerard’s complete and undivided attention like this again. Frank wasn’t ready to make a move, but he’d keep staring until Gerard was. 

It was then that Frank dropped the joint he’d been holding onto his lap. He flinched away from Gerard and patted around in search of the still-smoldering thing. The last thing he needed was a hole burned into his jeans. 

The weed hit then, pairing horribly with the sudden realization that he’d been incredibly… un-smooth. Frank pinched the unlit side of the joint and stubbed it out on the pavement, before slipping the rest of it into his pocket for later. 

He cleared his throat and dared a glance at Gerard, who was apparently watching him with a serious sort of interest, completely unphased by the joint fumble of the fucking century. 

“I wish I could’ve met you before...” Gerard said. 

“Before?” Frank asked.

“Yeah.” Gerard shook his head and looked away, “Or maybe later on? I dunno. I just got sober so... I can’t get a drink with you. But I want to. I wanna smoke your weed. I wanna buy you a drink. All that shit… but I just…  _ can’t _ . And it sucks.” 

“Oh.” said Frank.

That was… a lot. A lot that Mikey could’ve helpfully mentioned it at any point. It would’ve been nice if Gerard had mentioned it before Frank had smoked half a joint in front of him, even if it had been small and shitty. Frank stared helplessly at the dumpsters across from the two of them, hoping they had answers. 

They did not. 

“It’s weird. It’s like… I’m living in my mom’s basement until I figure my shit out, so like, what? Am I supposed to bring dates back to my mom’s basement?” Gerard asked with a small breath of a laugh, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you? Or anyone.” 

“There’s a million things, dude.” Frank said, “We could go see a movie. We could get coffee?”

He didn’t add that he had an entire empty apartment they could go back to. No basements. No parents. Just Toro, maybe.

Gerard shot Frank a skeptical look. He ran a hand through his hair, and seemed to consider the dumpsters across from them just as hard as Frank had. It was all starting to click. The rides home. Gerard not wanting to get a drink. Gerard not wanting to do  _ anything  _ with Frank _. _

_ “Why didn’t you just tell me?”  _ was on the tip of Frank’s tongue, but it sounded so accusing, so bitter in his head. 

“I really like you, Frank.” Gerard said, “But… I just need some time.” 

“I like you, too.” Frank said, aiming for honesty, “A lot.” He couldn’t look at Gerard as he said it.

“I don’t care if I’m just a cleric in your mom’s basement, if that’s what you need me to be.” he added for sparkle.

Frank knew he’d said the right thing when Gerard fucking beamed at him. The smile evaporated rather quickly. Gerard let out a sigh.

“I just need to get over myself, I think.” Gerard said. 

“Okay.” Frank said mildly, “Well…” 

Gerard was still staring at him and it made him trip over his next words a little.

“If you change your mind...” Frank said, digging around in his pockets for his smokes, “Don’t let me be the last to know.” 

He lit a cigarette and looked back up at the sky, 

“You should’ve just told me.” Frank added as gently as he could, mumbling around his smoke, “I feel like such a dick for smoking weed around you now.” 

“Weed was never the problem…” Gerard said sagely, “It was literally... everything else.” 

It should’ve been weird to go back inside and keep painting, but it wasn’t. The silence between them was surprisingly comfortable. Frank unearthed a dusty boombox complete with a collection of shitty demo tapes, seeing as the PA system was still all unplugged. The network of wires necessary to get any sound out of it had been taped back for the paint work. They settled into a comfortable pace, filling every crack, chip, and scuff with fresh paint as they listened to something dated and punk rock that neither of them could really connect with. 

Schecter and Bob still hadn’t come back by the time they were done. Frank led Gerard to the back room where they kept the extra rolls of toilet paper. There was a small utility sink where they could rinse off the brushes and rollers and pans. Gerard insisted on helping. 

It was a cramped closet. Frank could’ve stayed closer to the wall, if it weren’t for the cobwebs. His heart skipped exactly one beat when their arms bumped. It was almost worse to know that the attraction was definitely there, that Gerard felt it, too. It wasn’t just Frank. Gerard just had to make everything worse by looking directly into Frank’s eyes. He was surprised to find the same helpless look on Gerard’s face. 

It was enough to turn Frank’s mood around. He was feeling pretty good once they had packed away the painting supplies. He went to the trouble of taping up a ‘WET PAIN’ sign for Schecter and Bob, intentionally leaving out the ‘T.’

“Let me drive you home.” was all Gerard had to say. Frank followed him out to his car without a second thought. 

An undeniable tension settled once they were in the car. Gerard turned the engine over and started flipping through their CD options. As Frank watched Gerard bite his lip in concentration, he was tempted to reiterate to Gerard that it was more than fine if he was sober. They didn’t have to get fucked up, and they certainly didn’t have to go back to Gerard’s mom’s place. Frank could be flexible.  _ More than flexible.  _

But Gerard picked out speedy metal, which he turned up too loud for conversation, and he drove too fast and too reckless. Too soon, he was slowing the car to a halt outside of the castle on Graves. Frank had spent most of the drive stoned and thinking too much, not carefully concocting his speech for his ‘we should be together’ campaign. 

Gerard turned the radio down all the way, like he might say something. But then he looked at Frank like Frank should say something first. 

“I-” Frank started, at the same time that Gerard said, “Listen-” 

“You first.” Gerard said. 

“I was just gonna say…” Frank faltered, “I had fun today. And drive safe.” 

It hadn’t been what he was going to say, at all, but what else was there to say? Frank held his breath. The inside of the car was silent, save the clicking of Gerard’s turn signal, still flipped, engine idling. 

“I had fun too...” Gerard said neutrally, 

“Frank... “ he continued, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” 

Frank shrugged. 

“I did…” Gerard said, correcting himself, “I gave you the wrong idea.” 

“It sounds like... you don’t know what you want.” Frank said quietly, glancing up at his apartment building through the passenger side window, “I can’t be mad at you for trying to figure it out.”

“I just don’t wanna fuck it up.” Gerard said, “Not with you.”

Frank nodded. 

“Well… Thanks for the ride.” Frank said, reaching for the handle on the door. 

“ _ Frank. _ ” Gerard said. The tone of his voice was pleading. And oh, God, to hear Gerard beg like that. 

Frank paused, fingers resting on the handle. When he glanced over, he was surprised to find doubt in Gerard’s eyes. 

All Frank had to do was push back and argue that they should try this anyways. Gerard wanted him to.

But Frank didn’t want Gerard like this, all half-hearted and uncertain. He wanted Gerard to be sure about it. 

“Good night, Gerard.” Frank said evenly. 

He opened the door, slid out of the car, and closed the door behind him, not waiting for Gerard to say more.

“See you around.” he said to the open air. 

He was sure Gerard watched him go this time. He could hear the buzzing of the old engine until the lobby door swung shut behind him. It was strange how much it stung like rejection. Gerard hadn’t even said “no,” he’d said “not now.” Frank couldn’t be mad at him for being uncertain, but that left nothing and nowhere to land the disappointment. 

He wished he’d never tried. Never pursued the older way. He wished he could go back to mooching cigarettes off of Gerard on his way to the bus.

Toro wasn’t home when Frank walked in. The apartment was dark and empty. There was no one to shy Frank away from letting out a huge sigh and mumbling into the darkness about how fucking weird everything was. 

~ 

Gerard didn’t come by the next night that Frank and Mikey were scheduled to run a show together. Mikey wasn’t going home after the show. He was going to watch some girl’s band practice. At least, that was what he told Frank. 

It was almost weird taking the bus again. It was weird how heavy it felt to have ended up here. It was sort of nice to put on headphones and lose himself in the orange glow of the streetlights. Frank had forgotten how much the passing of quiet, empty warehouses helped him to unwind and come back to himself. 

He hadn’t allowed himself to realize how much he liked Gerard. He kept going back and forth on whether or not Gerard’s rides home had meant anything at all. It wasn’t like they’d gone anywhere together, save the milk-buying-thing. That hardly constituted a date. 

The next night Frank and Mikey were scheduled to run a show together Mikey asked if he wanted to ride with them. 

Frank told Mikey he just wanted to clear his head after the show, and that wasn’t exactly a  _ lie.  _ Not saying ‘goodbye’ to Mikey and sneaking out the venue’s back door to walk to the bus stop did feel a little like fucking lying, though. 

As petty as it felt, Frank had to ride out his disappointment somehow, and he didn’t want to do it in front of Mikey’s older brother. If he’d been driven to sobriety, the last thing Gerard needed was to be punished for it. 

~

“Gerard’s freaking out.” Mikey said at the end of the night a week later, when Frank had said he was taking the bus, yet again, “He thinks you hate him.” 

“Hi Mikeyway,” Frank said, mock-cheerful, “It’s good to see you too.” 

The younger Way rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t hate your brother.” Frank surrendered helplessly, “You know I fucking don’t.” 

“That’s what I tried to tell him.” Mikey explained, “But I think he needs to hear it from you.” 

It wasn’t funny, but Frank found himself letting out a breathy laugh anyways. Mikey, on the other hand, did not laugh.

“He’s allowed to not want to go out with me?” Frank said, feeling a little squirrely from having to state the fucking obvious, “But I’m allowed to be bummed out about it?” 

“That is precisely why I think he  _ should _ go out with you.” Mikey countered, “You generally know better, Frank… He needs that.” 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think you’re trying to convince the wrong fucking person.” Frank said helplessly, adjusting the strap of his backpack so it sat more comfortably on the dip of his shoulder.

“I can’t change his mind about anything...” Mikey said, “I’ve never been able to. But I can change yours. And I think  _ you _ can change his.” 

Frank frowned, not even sure how to articulate, again, that Gerard had effectively communicated his feelings, and while Frank hadn’t communicated much to Gerard since then, it had been out of respect. Moping around Gerard felt too much like punishing him for being honest. 

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Frank shrugged. 

“Just go talk to him.” Mikey said, “Please.” 

“Fine.” Frank groaned, “You fuckin’...  _ owe me _ , Mikeyway.” 

Forcing himself to be brave, Frank exited through the front showroom doors. He’d wave to Gerard, maybe bum a smoke. It would be forced, but if they were ever going to get back to normal, they’d have to start somewhere. 

The sidewalk was still crowded with attendees, smoking and talking, waiting for rides, gushing about the band. Frank scanned the block for peeling black paint on silver. He was only mildly surprised when he didn’t see it. Maybe Gerard had bolted. Frank wasn’t sure if he preferred that or not. 

“Frank, hey.” Gerard’s voice intoned, startling the shit out of Frank. 

Frank spun around to find Mikey’s older brother leaning back against the decaying brick wall. Leather jacket, cigarette in-hand, looking something like the opposite of ‘freaking out.’

It wasn’t fair for him to be able to look at Frank like that. Frank liked Gerard’s eyes better when they were on the road, not searching his for an explanation. 

“Look, I don’t hate you.” Frank said immediately. Mikey’s conversation-opening skills were clearly rubbing off on him. 

Gerard’s composure shattered. He looked sort of horrified. His cigarette dangled from his lips as his mouth hung open. Frank had caught him completely off guard and Mikey Way was a dead man. 

“Mikey said- I mean…” Frank faltered, shaking his head “ _ Hi. _ ” 

“Hi, Gerard.” he said, trying again. 

“Hi.” Gerard said back.

Frank laughed. Ridiculous. This was ridiculous. 

“Can I bum a smoke?” Frank asked. 

Gerard supplied his pack without so much as a look. Frank stuck one between his lips and handed it back. He patted his pockets down for a lighter. Gerard stuck his out, already lit. Frank leaned in to inhale the flame, coaxing it into the end of his smoke. 

“First big show since we painted in there.” Frank said, exhaling, “It looks great.” 

“I had dreams about those fuckin paint fumes...” Gerard said. 

Frank’s mind made the immediate leap to wondering if he’d been in the dreams. He turned to look up and down the street, like he was looking for someone. When his eyes landed back on Gerard’s, Gerard was staring. Frank could barely stomach the intensity of it. 

“I’m glad you don’t.” Gerard said, “Hate me, I mean.” 

Frank shrugged. 

“I didn’t mean to fuck off so hard.” Frank confessed, “I just… needed to. I guess?”

Gerard nodded, and leaned back against the building behind him, letting his posture slump a little. 

“I kinda did the same thing.” Gerard offered. 

“But I really didn’t mean to give you that impression.” Frank said, unable to stop from giving the older Way a full once-over. Devastating. 

“It wasn’t about you.” Frank added.

“Well, not just about you.” he corrected. 

“Just don’t fuck off forever?” Gerard requested, taking another drag.

“‘Kay.” Frank said, letting out a breath of a laugh. 

Gerard smiled along as he exhaled and it was like Frank could breathe again. 

“Gerard?” someone beside Frank exclaimed, “Is that you?” 

Frank glanced over to find some guy he didn’t recognize. He looked like half the crowd outside. Black band shirt. Glasses. Wallet chain. 

“Oh, hey!” Gerard said, pushing himself off the wall. 

When Frank looked back at the older Way he was smiling at the newcomer. 

“I thought you died!” The guy joked, “I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“Kinda did…” Gerard shrugged, “In a sense?” 

“What’ve you been up to?” he asked, jumping right into what was starting to sound like a reunion of sorts. 

Frank had extended the olive branch, which was more than most people could expect of Frank at such an hour, and then this guy had come along and given him the perfect exit strategy. 

He reached out and squeezed Gerard’s hand. It made his heart flutter, to see how quickly it regained Gerard’s complete attention. Gerard’s eyes were innocently burning right into his all of a sudden. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I gotta go catch my bus.” Frank said quietly, “It was good to see you.” 

Gerard looked like he wanted to argue. 

“Don’t be a stranger.” Gerard said instead, giving Frank this longing look that killed Frank inside - just a little bit. 

“I won’t.” Frank promised. 

“Have a good night.” Frank added, nodding to Gerard’s old friend. 

Frank turned and started walking, wondering if they were watching him go - or rather, if Gerard was. He wove around another group of show-goers standing in the middle of the sidewalk smoking, obscuring him from Gerard’s line of sight. 

It was wrong how good it felt to slip off into the night. 

Mikey couldn’t be mad at him. He’d tried. And he really did have a bus to catch. If he missed the one on the way, he’d be stuck outside for another 45 minutes with nothing but his thoughts and an Ipod with a questionable remaining battery life. 

Even so, Frank couldn’t help himself if his heart sped up a little with the flash of headlights each time a car turned onto the block. 

~

  
  
  


It was always a treat when Schecter booked locals. Cobra Starship knew how to end the night the right way. It was the last show of the last leg of their tour, and the band had made it count.

The show had sold out the day the tickets were released. They had a few roadies leftover from tour helping run security. That was how Frank, determined to make himself useful, had ended up working the merch table with the band after the encore. The line of fans waiting to meet the band stretched all the way back to the stage. 

They’d snuck a cooler of beer into the green room. Saporta had poured a beer into a disposable coffee cup for Frank. The whole band was sipping from coffee cups, actually. 

As things started to wind down Gabe decided he was tired, and since they were one chair short, and since that was somehow  _ Frank’s _ fault, he sat right on Frank’s lap. 

Attention on Gabe meant attention on Frank. 

“Ladies, _and gentleman,_ _actually._ This is my buddy, Frankie.” Saporta explained to the group of girls before them, making jazz hands, “He’s single. You want his number?” 

Frank looked away into what was left of the crowd. It was at that exact moment that he locked eyes with Gerard on the other side of the room. He’d never seen Gerard inside, at a show - with so many people around. He’d only seen the older Way painting here, when it was quiet, or that one time he’d come inside to look for Mikey at the end of the night, after most of the staff had left. Frank wondered, idly, how long the older Way had been standing there. 

‘Single’ wasn’t the right word for what Frank was. 

‘ _ Dumped _ ’ felt more accurate, which was ridiculous, he and Gerard hadn’t been  _ anything.  _ But by that same token, Frank wasn’t looking for a rebound. Not yet. 

...

Cobra Starship had been discussing what to do after they wrapped things up at the venue. They’d settled on a Tiki bar on the other side of town. Saporta had a thing for kitsch. Frank, of course, was invited. The entire venue crew was invited. 

Frank was looking for Mikey in the back. He wasn’t sure how it’d gotten to the point where Frank had to explain to the Ways when he wouldn’t be riding with them, rather than when he would be. 

It would be easier to break it to Mikey. 

But. Naturally, as Frank made his way down the hall towards the greenroom, Gerard slipped out of the door to the men’s room. He stopped, blocking Frank’s path to the back. His hair looked absolutely perfect, like he’d just teased it into the perfect monster. 

“Hey Frank.” he said, smiling innocently - clearly unaware of the devastation he caused on a regular basis. 

“Gerard.” Frank choked out, “Hey, man.” 

Gerard gave Frank a calculating look, eyeing his deer-in-the-headlights demeanor up and down. His eyes landed on the coffee cup in Frank’s hand.

“This isn’t coffee.” Frank admitted, pointing conspiratorially to the coffee cup, “I uh-” 

“Have you seen Mikey?” Frank asked instead, changing the subject. 

“You found Frank, great!” Mikey’s voice suddenly intoned behind Frank. 

Gerard smiled sheepishly, Frank turned in the direction of Mikey’s voice. 

“Been lookin’ for you.” Mikey said, “You goin’ to the afterparty?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Frank said, stepping back against the wall so he could shift his eyes between both of the Ways, which made him feel a lot like a cornered animal. 

“Wanna ride with us?” Mikey asked. 

Frank felt like he should’ve said ‘no,’ but what came out of his mouth was “Yeah, sure.” 

...   
  


Frank wasn’t really close enough to either of the Ways to ask why either of them thought it was a good idea for Gerard to come to the afterparty. He and Gerard hadn’t really talked in depth about where he was in his sobriety. He and Mikey never talked in depth about much of anything. 

Frank hadn’t been in the Ways’ car since that day he and Gerard had painted the show space. He tried to tell himself that letting Mikey take shotgun was because he was a good friend, and not at all because he was a coward. 

Gerard was quieter than usual once they got going, but then Mikey had turned the music up and it didn’t matter who was talking and who wasn’t anymore. Frank watched Gerard’s eyes in the rear-view mirror until the older Way glanced up and met Frank’s gaze. Frank took to looking out the window after that. 

The vulnerable, recently sober older Way brother seemed content enough, sipping on a glass of water as he conversed with one of the sound techs several barstools down from Frank. 

Gerard’s eyes landed on Frank’s as he spoke. He promptly looked away again. 

The buzz he’d had going at work had worn off on the car ride over. Frank looked down, pretending to consider the glass of beer in front of him, deliberating over whether it was worth it to pursue getting drunk anymore. Gabe had given him a t-shirt for helping with merch. It was draped over his thigh. He wished he’d grabbed his backpack on his way out the door. He couldn’t find it in himself to relax, and he knew it was because ofGerard. 

Mikey was busy celebrating as hard as the rest of Cobra, so clearly Frank was anxious over nothing, but still, it made taking each sip of beer less and less than enticing. 

Frank balled up his Cobra t-shirt and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket. He got up to step out for a smoke. He knew he shouldn’t have looked over at Gerard as he got up, but by the time it had occurred to him to stop himself, he was already looking over. Gerard was looking back at him. Gerard looked okay. He looked chill. Frank let himself breathe. 

He wondered if they’d do this all night, making eyes, only to look away again. 

Frank had already pulled his smokes out. There was no question what he was doing. He stuck one between his lips for emphasis as he turned and wandered out the door. 

The wind had picked up outside. Frank tucked himself behind a column that was out of the cold whipping wind, after it kept stealing the flame from his lighter. 

He wished he hadn’t agreed to coming out tonight, as nice as it was to see his friends celebrate. He realized, too late, that he maybe wasn’t in a celebratory mood. He stared into the rows parked cars as he contemplated his options for ducking out early. 

What couldn’t have been more than a moment or so later, there was an undeniably Gerard-shaped figure headed for the first row of cars, elbows bent sharply to accommodate his hands, stuffed deep in his pockets. Worry curled in Frank’s stomach.

“Gerard!” Frank called out. 

Gerard turned in the direction of Frank’s voice. Frank waved, cigarette still dangling from his fingers.

The older way donned an oversized black scarf. With the rest of his usual all-black attire, the darkness nearly swallowed him. His face was like the moon against a cold, starless sky. It was the only thing Frank could see. 

“I was looking for you.” Gerard said, as soon as he was in earshot. The wind whipped his black locks across his face. 

“You were?” Frank asked, watching as Gerard pulled out his pack and sparked a smoke of his own. The wind stole the flame from his lighter as well. He turned to face away from the next gust. 

“Should’ve known to follow the smoke.” Gerard commented around the filter. His mouth turned up into a smirk on one side. He cupped his hand closely around his smoke. 

“Everything okay?” Frank asked. He held out a hand to provide extra protection from the wind. His fingers barely brushed Gerards.

“Thanks. Yeah.” Gerard said earnestly, exhaling smoke, “Everything’s cool. Mikey and the others are thinking of heading to another bar. I was wondering… can we go somewhere and talk?” 

“Talk.” Frank repeated hesitantly, eyeing Gerard, “About what?” He leaned against the column at his back and flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette.

“When I saw you earlier, with Saporta. I just…” Gerard sighed, “I was jealous. I’ll admit it.” 

Frank’s heart nearly skipped a beat. 

“Of Saporta?” Frank asked, completely dazed. He swallowed hard as he looked up at Gerard.

“I wanted to get a drink with you the first time you asked.” Gerard said instead of answering, “You know that, right?“

“Gee-”

“I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I had just let it.” Gerard continued, “I could’ve just-” 

“Gerard, me and Saporta aren’t... _ anything. _ ” Frank said forcefully, trying to get the older Way to hit the fucking brakes.

That seemed to get Gerard’s attention. Frank took another drag off his smoke to try and chill himself out. 

“You’d let him give you a ride home tonight if he asked, wouldn’t you?” Gerard asked.

“Gabe can’t drive.” Frank said helplessly. 

“You haven’t been avoiding him, have you?” Gerard asked, “Because it didn’t look that way to me earlier.” 

“Gerard, man, look…” Frank sighed, “I want to be supportive, but I fucking like you okay? I’m trying to get over that, but I need some space if-” 

“Don’t.” Gerard interrupted. 

“Don’t what?” Frank asked. 

“Don’t get over it.” Gerard requested, “ _ Please _ .”

Gerard stepped closer to Frank then. 

Frank had to look up to meet his eyes. With the column at his back, he couldn’t back up anymore and Gerard was suddenly impossibly close. Frank felt Gerard’s fingers skate along his jawline to tilt his chin up. 

Frank let his eyes fall closed, let Gerard take the lead - because he couldn’t. His cigarette drifted from his fingers, forgotten entirely, and swept away on the wind. 

It was so sweet, to finally have something after having wanted it for so long. Gerard kissed Frank so carefully that Frank froze underneath the touch of his lips, unable to get his brain on board with reciprocating a touch so gentle. Such reverence wasn’t in Frank’s programming. 

Frank’s eyes fluttered back open. Gerard was still very much in front of him, still very close, searching Frank’s eyes for any sign of a reaction from Frank. 

“Gerard…” Frank admonished quietly, “I need you to be like, _ so fucking sure about this.” _

“I am.” Gerard promised, cupping Frank’s jaw with his free hand. 

Frank leaned in this time, pressing his lips to Gerard’s, against all better judgement, just because he could. Saporta probably would’ve been the jealous one, if he’d seen it - the way Frank grabbed the front of Gerard’s jacket to pull him closer. 

“We need to talk.” Gerard said breathlessly. 

“Talk.” Frank agreed, with a small nod, “Yeah. Um, here?” 

“Can I… drive you home?” Gerard asked.    
Frank couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah.” Frank said, “I guess you can.” 

As they walked to Gerard’s car, Frank couldn’t help but wonder if the entire night had been Mikey’s evil plan to begin with. Frank figured he owed the younger Way one, maybe more than one, regardless. 

Frank could barely make out the flaking remains of the black flames on silver in the dark. Gerard hung around the passenger side and opened the door for Frank. It wasn’t the first time he’d opened a car door for Frank, but the gesture felt different this time. Once Gerard closed the door for him, the cab was quiet without the whoosh of the wind. Frank watched Gerard through the windshield as he circled the front of the car, on some cocktail of relief, and nerves, and honestly, fucking confusion. 

Frank bit his lip to keep from giggling as Gerard climbed in and fumbled to get his keys in the ignition. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Saporta...” Frank said in the quiet. 

“I had a feeling I might regret admitting to that...” Gerard said as he turned the engine over. The car roared to life. It rumbled lowly, as if greeting Frank. 

“I’ll sit on your lap at the merch table whenever you like.” Frank offered with a small smirk. 

“You just… honestly?” Gerard confessed, “Looked so comfortable together? I wanted… I want-.”

Gerard paused, glancing over to shoot Frank a helpless look before putting the car in reverse to back out of his parking spot.. 

“That.” he continued, “I don’t want you to hide from me anymore. I want to see you. I want you to be Frank. With me.”

“I don’t know any other way to be.” Frank grinned. 

Frank had no idea how long of a drive it was to his apartment, or how Gerard even knew he was going the right way. A few traffic lights, and a u-turn of questionable legality later, and Frank didn’t recognize the road they were on at all. 

“Ok, so can I just… talk for a second? I feel like I need to explain myself.” Gerard said.

“Sure.” Frank encouraged. 

“Something I’ve been trying to figure out…” Gerard started, “Is how being sober is supposed to fit into hanging out with people who...  _ aren’t. _ ”

“I’m still testing the waters… Obviously.” he added. 

“I’m perfectly fine with never going to that bar again.” Frank offered, earning a laugh from Gerard. 

“Well, no, it’s like, okay? Except for when it isn’t?” Gerard offered, “Sometimes I freak out. And I don’t know how to tell anyone I’m freaking out. So I usually just disappear and I’m not great at answering my phone when I’m freaking out. And that creates problems all on it’s own.”

They passed through a small pocket of businesses, closed up for the night, ‘Closed’ neon signs blazing. 

“I don’t know how to ease into this. I hate the thought that you might feel like you have to be on your best behavior around me all the time.” Gerard said, “I don’t want that. I like seeing you having a good time.” 

Gerard drove turned down a dark country road. Frank didn’t know of many country roads on the way to his apartment, but then again, the bus usually took him down the main drag. This road ran alongside the highway for a little while, and Frank thought he knew where they were, sort of, but then the road turned away from the highway, and he was lost again. 

“I think what we need is a safe word.” Frank offered. 

Gerard’s eyes flitted over to Frank for the briefest of moments. Frank grinned wildly at the look on his face. 

“Not for that.” Frank clarified with a small, dry smile, “But for nights like tonight. _ ”  _

“It’s no different, really.” Frank explained, “It should be simple for you to tell me when you’re not having a good time anymore. And we’ll stop. And go somewhere else. Easy as that.”

“Hmmmmm… Yeah. Okay.” Gerard agreed, “Okay. What about ‘Cleric?’”

“No offense, but I don’t trust you to not talk about D&D, especially around sound techs.” Frank laughed. 

“You have a point…” Gerard admitted, frowning in thought. 

“But you like this idea?” Frank asked. 

“I do. A lot.” Gerard nodded, “What about… ‘Fuck the government.’” 

“ _ That _ could work.” Frank grinned, mulling it over. 

“ _ Fuck the government. _ ” Gerard said again, trying it out. 

“You just have to promise me you won’t go around instigating anarchist discourse at tiki bars.” Frank added with a smirk. 

“I’ll try.” Gerard promised. 

“Gerbils.” Gerard said, “I’m spit-balling now...” 

“‘Gerbils’ won’t work.” Frank snorted, “It’s too funny. Where the heck are we anyways?” 

“Thought I’d take the scenic route...” Gerard said, “But then I’m kind of turned around. I hope you don’t mind...” 

“I really don’t.” Frank said, with feeling. 

“What about ‘My DVD player is broken.’?” Gerard tried.

A large drop of rain smacked against the windshield. It was followed by another, and then another, and then dozens. And suddenly it was pouring. Frank was kind of instantly grateful he hadn’t stormed off into the night by himself, for more than one reason. Though, honestly, he’d probably be home by now. It was pushing 3am. 

That explained why he hadn’t really seen any other cars on the road. 

“I think I know where I’m going now.” Gerard said, “This rain, though… I can’t see anything.” 

The rain was heavy. Frank could see it in the headlights. It was all he could see on the stretch of dark, forested road. There weren’t even streetlights. When he glanced over at Gerard, his eyes were fixed on the road in front of him, hands tight on the steering wheel. It was the most focused Frank had ever seen him. 

The water had quickly gathered on the road. Gerard slowed down considerably to get through it. Frank could practically feel the tires moving through it, vibrating like TV static as the water wooshed away underneath them. 

It came out of the woods, from the heavy treeline on the left of the road. A black shape that seemed to contort, expanding and contracting as it darted across the road, through the rain. Gerard slammed on the breaks. The creature stopped in front of the car. Its eyes glowed brightly in the headlights. 

It was as if time slowed down with them, 45 in a 30 zone, screeching down to zero. And then Gerard wasn’t just hitting the breaks anymore, he was swerving out of the way, too. 

Time sped up again, and then everything was happening too fast. It was too hard of a swerve, the car screeched off the road. The headlights were illuminating pavement, and then they were illuminating the grass, and trees, and the hillside that stretched lower, lower. The force of the swing shoved Frank against the door. Trees flew past them on either side, whooshing past as nothing more than blurs. The tires slipped on mud, and then the car hit what sounded like a huge rock, or maybe a tree. Frank was thrown forward, held back only by the seatbelt he only remembered to buckle about half the time. 

And then the car just… died. The electrical went out, and then there was a terrible sound as the engine spiraled to a slow hum that got slower and slower, until all Frank could hear was the raindrops smacking down on the roof of the car. 

“Frank, shit. Are you okay?” Gerard asked roughly, his hand connected with Frank’s arm and squeezed in the darkness. 

Frank’s eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. No street lights. He covered Gerard’s hand with his own and squeezed back. 

“I’m okay.” Frank said, a little breathless, “I think. What the hell was that thing?” 

“What thing?” Gerard asked. 

“That thing you didn’t hit.” Frank offered.

“You… you saw it?” Gerard asked, fingers twitching under Frank’s hand. 

“Yeah?” Frank asked. With the way he’d been jerked forward, the seatbelt was digging into his shoulder. He shifted his weight to relieve the pressure, only to realize the car was actually tilted further down the slope than he’d calculated. He started pressing the button to release his seatbelt. It stuck for a few presses, that grew more and more frantic, until the damn thing finally clicked open. 

“Fuck.” Frank added, relieved his wasn’t tied down to the car, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay.” Gerard said, “I think.” 

Gerard slid his hand out of Frank’s death grip and let out a long, slow breath. 

Frank squinted against the bright of Gerard’s cell phone screen. He held it up to the windshield, illuminating the spiderweb network of cracks that had formed in the glass. 

“We gotta get out of here.” Gerard observed, “What if this thing blows?” 

“Do you smell gas?” Frank asked worriedly. 

“Well, no.” Gerard admitted, “Wait. Can that actually happen?” 

“Yeah?” Frank laughed, sounding the tiniest bit hysterical. 

He reached to open the door and stopped himself. 

“What if it’s still… out there?” Frank observed, “Is it safe? I mean, I have a knife in my pocket, but it’s not gonna do much against a fucking… wolf?” 

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that was a wolf.” Gerard agreed stiffly, “But I don’t have reception down here. I wanna get back up to the road and see if I can get a signal up there.” 

Frank reached for car door again. It swung open with little push, nudging the car forward as gravity did the rest. 

“Careful.” Gerard breathed. 

The rain was louder outside the car, pattering against the leaves of the trees and underbrush. The slope of the hill was slippery, and shifted loose under Frank’s feet as he stumbled through the darkness to orient himself. After fumbling into a few branches, he dropped to the ground and dug his fingers into the grass to claw his way up the hill. He could hear Gerard panting a few feet to his right, scaling the hill with the same level of grace, no doubt. 

When he got to the top of the hill, it took him a minute to get to his feet. He was breathless and terrified. 

“Fuck.” Gerard cursed, equally breathless in the darkness. Frank, could barely see him. The sky was lighter than the treeline, from the distant light pollution of the city. Frank glanced up and down the road, but no headlights came into view.

Gerard flipped his phone open again and covered the screen with his hand to protect it from the rain. Frank drifted towards the small light. 

“One bar.” Gerard confirmed. Frank clung to Gerard, panting and shivering, as Gerard brought the phone to his ear. Frank shoved his hands around Gerard’s waist, to the back of his jacket where it would be warm. The rain had already soaked its way down through the back of Gerard’s t-shirt. The older Way wrapped his free arm around Frank to pull him closer, and it should’ve been nice to be so close, after everything, but everything was off now. Frank was more focused on breathing, and not blowing up with Gerard’s car, and trying to scan the dark treeline for somewhere to stand that was out of the rain.

“Mikey.” Gerard said, “I need you to go home and get mom.” 

It was then that Frank realized Gerard hadn’t called 911 at all. He’d called Mikey Way. 

“This is like, the end of a fucking horror movie.” Frank complained, “I guess  _ I’m _ calling 911.”

Frank pulled away enough to pat himself down in search of his phone, praying it wasn’t still in the car. 

It wasn’t until he was trying to dial that he realized his hands were fucking shaking. 

The most challenging thing after that was trying to communicate their exact location with 911 dispatch. Gerard’s car was just off the road, but what road exactly? They spent a while trying to decide the name of the gas station they’d passed before the road had become nothing but dark obscurity. The responder was able to find the closest cell phone tower, but that still left a few long, dark roads they might have crashed on. It didn’t help that Frank had exactly one bar of service also, and could only sort of follow what the dispatcher was saying through the choppy static. Frank was entirely unclear on how, exactly, the probably-drunk-somewhere younger Way was going to be of any help at this hour. And no, Frank told the dispatcher, he didn’t think anyone was hurt enough to send an ambulance, but animal control, on the other hand, probably couldn’t hurt. 

When Frank realized his battery was low, he asked the 911 dispatcher if he could end the call, in case he needed to make another call if things got worse. All the rain would eventually break his phone, as well - and that was about the last thing they needed. 

They stood in the darkness together for a few moments. 

“Come on. We have to get to that gas station.” Gerard said.

“That was like, miles ago.” Frank pointed out.

“Would you rather wait in the car?” Gerard asked darkly. 

“It was that way, right?” Frank sighed, taking a wet step down the road. The ground was already completely saturated with water. 

“Frank, wait.” Gerard pleaded.

Frank turned around to face Gerard. In the dark, Gerard walked right into him. Gerard’s hands came up to steady him. Frank just leaned into the touch. 

“Stay close.” Gerard said, “Please. That thing is still out there.” 

They walked arm in arm along the side of the road. They’d tried to hold hands, but it felt too intimate, so Frank had slid his arm through Gerard’s instead. Frank’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to follow the line of the road. He kept scanning the slope of the road for headlights. Gerard was probably doing the same. 

“Is that… a streetlight up ahead?” Frank asked. 

“I hope so.” Gerard answered. 

Frank focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The dregs of the beer, from the show, and then the bar, had started to wear off. In the absence of the buzz Frank was just exhausted. He leaned into Gerard a little as the walked, relying on him to keep tabs on which way up was. The road sloped down and then back up at the light. 

As they ascended the slope up to the streetlight, it became clear just how hard it had been raining. The wet slosh of his footsteps in the grass on the side of the road should’ve been indication enough. Frank could see the drops falling in the light, and the droplets that collected and fell from the light itself. 

“We should’ve just gone with Mikey and the others...” Gerard said. 

“No way.” Frank defended, squeezing Gerard’s arm a little, “I mean, I can’t say I wouldn’t rather be somewhere else… but… I wanted to be alone with you.” 

“Yeah... “ Gerard agreed, “I wanted to be alone with you too.” 

Frank smiled to himself, knowing he could keep it to himself in the darkness.

“This just  _ really _ … wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked to drive you home.” Gerard sighed. 

Frank let out a breath of a laugh that was carried away by the whoosh of the rain. 

“What _ did _ you have in mind?” Frank asked. 

“That I’d drive you home.” Gerard said simply, then added, “And maybe you’d invite me in.” 

“And then what?” Frank asked, unable to stop himself, still buzzing with adrenaline. 

“I’d be fucking normal and say ‘yes.’” Gerard offered. 

“It’s normal to say ‘no’ sometimes.” Frank offered back. 

“Yeah, but not when you mean ‘yes.’” Gerard concluded.

Frank had never in his life been excited to see the lights of a police car, but he supposed, as the red and blue flashes lit up the treeline, that he was a little fucking excited. The sirens were off, but their search lights were on. The car was rolling down the street a little slow, with the lights focused on the side of the road. They were looking for Gerard and Frank. 

The car stopped when the searchlights landed on them. Two officers got out. Their umbrellas popped up. One of them had a flashlight in his hand, and he lifted it up to shine in Frank’s eyes as he approached. Frank squinted and put a hand up. He was officially no longer excited. 

“‘One of you Frank Iero?” the one on the right asked. 

“That’s me.” Frank said dryly. 

“Either of you been drinking tonight?” 

“Well, he has.” Gerard stepped in, “But I was the one driving.” 

The flashlight shone in Gerard’s face then. And the questions continued. What were they doing out on this road so late? Did Gerard have a history of auto accidents? Had Frank seen the animal that ran in front of the car? 

The other officer returned to the car and started rifling through the trunk. He came back with another umbrella for the two of them, mumbling some apology about only having one.

Frank watched helplessly, hair still sticking to his face from the pouring rain, as they made Gerard blow into a breathalyzer. It was insane. The guy was literally fucking sober. As the cops stepped away again to report back to dispatch, Gerard told Frank it was probably better in the long run, that they had ascertained he wasn’t driving drunk. He mumbled something vague about insurance rates. 

After deciding Gerard wasn’t a drunk driver, they had Frank and Gerard get in the back of the car so they could go back to the scene of the accident. Some 15 minutes later, they got back to where Gerard and Frank had started over an hour before. 

A fire truck showed up, too. Those guys were way nicer than the cops. The medic wrapped a blanket around Frank’s shoulders and shined a flashlight into Frank’s eyes. This time though, it was to make sure he didn’t have a fucking concussion. Frank tried to stay focused as another medic explained the effects of whiplash, how Frank and Gerard might feel a little sore for the next couple of days - perhaps a week or so, depending on how fast they’d been going. The other medic was busy shining his own flashlight into Gerard’s eyes. Frank was fucking tired, and soaked, and shivering, even with the blanket. 

The firetruck crew had left after confirming Frank and Gerard weren’t in need of immediate medical attention, and the cops were just wrapping up the details for their report. They let Frank sit in the back of their warm, dry police car while they sorted things out with Gerard. 

It wasn’t even late anymore, but rather, early in the morning, when a silver SUV showed up to the scene. A woman that must’ve been Gerard’s mom got out on the driver’s side. A puff of blonde hair was visible at the top of a serious fucking raincoat. Mikey’s skinny form, obscured by the streams of rainwater on the windshield, was in-tow, with an umbrella held over their mother. 

Through the blur of windshield, Frank saw Gerard’s dark form move around the police car to open the door for him. 

“Our ride’s here.” He said, looking more exhausted than Frank felt, hair soaked and dripping onto the black of his soaking denim jacket. 

Mikey had swooped for shotgun, so Gerard opened the door to the back seat to let Frank in first..

“I’m just glad you boys are alright.” Gerard’s mother sighed, lighting a cigarette. They all watched as the cops marked a nearby tree with a piece of neon ribbon so the tow truck could come and get it later. 

Finally, they turned their fucking red and blue lights off. In their absence, Frank was quickly reminded of just how dark the forest around them had been, and would be again, once they all drove away. 

Mikey’s eyes met Frank’s in the rearview mirror. Gerard was bent over the backseat, digging around for something in the trunk. He pulled a jacket over the back seat, which he handed to Frank. 

Frank gladly huddled under it. He was still shivering. He scooted into the middle seat and leaned into Gerard’s side. Frank could feel that Gerard was just as cold. The chill of Gerard’s thigh radiated through their wet jeans, where their legs were touching. Gerard was shivering, too. He wrapped his arm around Frank’s shoulders. 

“Frank, can we drop you off somewhere?” Gerard’s mom asked, “Where were you boys headed?” 

“I’ll drive him home in the morning, ma.” Mikey offered, “Let’s just get them back to the house.” 

“You sure?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” Mikey answered for Frank, “He’s sure.” 

Gerard was pretty quiet on the drive home, distracted and staring out into the darkness, looking out the window. Frank couldn’t tear his eyes away from the road in front of the car. He wondered how long that little nugget of trauma would follow him. The rain was still coming down hard and flooding the pavement. Gerard’s mom had to slow down more than a few times to get through the large dark puddles that had formed on the roads. 

He’d gone so far past tired. He was fucking wired, like he’d cheated sleep just as easily as they’d cheated death. 

Gerard’s mom had the heat on full blast. Frank could feel himself to start to warm up, but it was a soggy, wet warmth - not as satisfying as it would’ve been if he was dry. As off as it felt, it was just enough for Frank to pass out with his head resting on Gerard’s shoulder. 

He woke with a start. His head hurt. He made a bleary, abortive noise as he realized the car wasn’t moving anymore. The little light above them was on. The door was open. Gerard was coaxing him out. 

“Come on.” Gerard said, “We’re here.” 

Frank shivered as he stumbled out of the car. His hair had started to dry, curling into feathering ends. He ran a hand through it to tame them into gentle waves. He shivered as he followed Gerard up to the house on stiff legs. 

The sky had started to bloom with dawn. It reflected off of the windows and the metal railings on the front steps. 

The house was still dark inside. The dawn creeped in through a scar in the pulled curtains. 

“I’ll get some coffee going.” Gerard’s mother said, “You boys hungry?”

“Yeah, ma.” Mikey said. 

“Pancakes or frozen pizza?” she asked. 

“Both?” Mikey said to himself, then louder, “No, Pancakes!”

“Please.” he added. 

Frank looked to Gerard who was shrugging off his soggy jacket. Frank followed suit. His skin was damp everywhere. He ran his fingers over his exposed arms. Even in the warmth of the house he continued to shiver. It felt like he’d fallen asleep in the bathtub until it had gone cold.” 

“Hey Frank, come with me…” Mikey said, “We’ll get you some dry clothes.” 

Frank started to follow Mikey up the stairs. 

“As comical as it would be to see you in Gee’s clothes…” Mikey said over his shoulder, “I think I’m more likely to have something… well, clean.” 

“Mikey.” Gerard said warningly. 

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?” Mikey asked. 

“I don’t know if I can fit into the kind of jeans you wear.” Frank verbalized. 

“Well lucky for you, that’s not all I have!” Mikey grinned, “Come on!” 

As soon as they were in Mikey’s room, Frank started to strip. He was relieved to get away from his wet clothes. T-shirt, jeans, socks - he paused at his boxers. 

“Here… I’ll get you a towel, one sec.” Mikey said, slipping out of the room. 

He returned a moment later with a towel, which Frank immediately began rubbing through his hair, before wrapping it around his shoulders. It was so fucking dry. Frank had never been so fucking happy to come in contact with a dry fucking towel in his entire life. He’d never take them for granted again. 

Mikey started rifling through his closet. 

“Here… I’ve got these weird PJs my grandma gave me…” Mikey said, “They’re like… a sports team? I don’t know.” 

He handed Frank a pair of black flannel pants with logos on it. Frank didn’t recognize the logo either. 

“Sweatshirt.” Mikey said, tossing Frank another black garment. 

“See?” Mikey added, “Not just skinny jeans.” 

“Turn around.” Frank said, “No peeking.” 

“Prude.” Mikey said, but obeyed easily. 

Frank slipped off his boxers and pulled on the PJs. They were a little tight but they were fucking  _ dry. _

“‘Kay, I’m decent.” Frank said. 

“You wanna smoke a bowl?” Mikey asked, rifling around in a drawer on his nightstand. 

“Uh… I don’t know if I can handle being high around your mom right now, dude.” Frank said honestly. 

“She does not care.” Mikey said, “At all. But I get it… First impressions…” 

“Yeah. Kind of a weird introduction.” Frank agreed, “I’m just glad your dad’s not awake...”

“Our parents are divorced but that’s… kinda fucking cute, Frank.” Mikey said with feeling, ripping up a nug of weed and thumbing it into his pipe. 

“Shut up.” Frank said. 

“Gimme your shit, I’ll throw it in the dryer.” Mikey offered. 

“Hey Mikey…” Gerard said, pushing the door to Mikey’s room open, “Mom wants to know if you want chocolate chip or-” 

Gerard paused as his eyes landed on Frank. They traveled up, and then down, and then back up again. To his credit, Frank realized, Gerard hadn’t seen Frank shirtless yet. He’d probably assumed Frank had more tattoos under his shirt, that wasn’t a stretch. But the sheer size and quantity, like the birds on his hips, usually had people staring. Frank couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Banana walnut.” Gerard finished, blinking and shifting his gaze over to Mikey, “Uh... Pancakes, I mean.” 

Frank turned away and slipped the sweatshirt on so he could let the smirk spread into a genuine smile. There was no way Gerard hadn’t liked what he saw. It had been all over his face. 

“Banana walnut.” Mikey said, exhaling smoke. 

Mikey set the pipe down and nudged Frank. 

“Come on, Frank.” Mikey said, “Let’s get you some coffee.” 

The kitchen had filled with the smell of vanilla. A large plate of pancakes had started to accumulate on the kitchen counter. The sun was definitely up now, somewhere behind the grey clouds that threatened further rain. Frank sat at the Way’s kitchen table with his fingers on the handle of a coffee mug. It was still just a little too hot to drink. Frank watched the steam with interest. 

Gerard sat beside Frank with his own mug. He’d changed into dry clothes, too - a ratty old hoodie and a pair of jeans. He reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that had been sitting in the center of the table. 

“You want one?” he asked. 

“Sure.” Frank said. 

He stuck one between his lips and passed another to Frank. He lit his and then reached out the lighter to light Frank’s, and fuck, that was nice. Frank was dry and now he was smoking.

“So… do you wanna tell me what happened, Gerard?” Gerard’s mother asked. 

Gerard passed her the pack of cigarettes after she’d turned around, spatula in hand. A pancake fizzled towards golden brown in the pan behind her. 

“It was the monster.” Mikey supplied, as she lit up, “It ran in front of the car.” 

“ _ Boys… _ ” she sighed, flicking her cigarette over the ashtray on the table. 

“I’m sorry…  _ monster? _ ” Frank asked. 

“You saw it, didn’t you, Frank?” Mikey asked.

When he looked at Mikey, he realized he had three entire sets of eyes on him. 

“I saw…” Frank said, furrowing his brow and turning to Gerard, “Something? I thought you said it was a wolf?” 

“ _ You _ said you thought it was a wolf.” Gerard said quietly, exhaling smoke, not meeting Frank’s eyes, “Doesn’t... a  _ wolf  _ make more sense though?” 

“But you don’t think it was a wolf.” Mikey said firmly. 

“ _ I don’t know. _ ” Gerard said helplessly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Gerard, if Frank saw it, too…” Mikey started. 

“Saw  _ what? _ ” Frank asked. 

“They’ve been talking about it ever since they were little.” Gerard’s mom supplied, “They said they saw something out in the woods when we were camping. You know the kind of imagination Gerard has… I didn’t think anything of it.”

“But then she saw it, too.” Mikey said. 

Their mother frowned at the younger Way, like she wanted to argue but wasn’t going to.

“Gerard’s seen it way more times than any of us.” Mikey added.

“I was fucking wasted most of those times, Mikey.” Gerard said darkly, “It’s just my imagination.” 

“It’s not!” Mikey countered. 

“That’s enough, Michael.” their mother scolded, “Your brother’s been through a lot tonight. And poor Frank probably thinks we’re nuts.” 

“Well, we are.” Gerard said morosely. 

“So,” she continued, “You swerved out of the way and that’s when you crashed?” 

“Yep.” Gerard bit out.

“Alright.” she said gently, turning back to flip the pancake over. It hissed in the pan, “Mikey, if your brother says it was a wolf, it was a wolf, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, ma.” Mikey said. 

Frank loved Donna Way. She made fluffy beautiful delicious pancakes, expertly coaxed Gerard out of his brooding, and seemed to share her sons’ unwavering appetite for coffee and cigarettes. Frank hadn’t ended up touching his coffee, fully intent on finding a couch to pass the fuck out on as soon as he was done with the pancakes. 

Donna smiled at Frank as he yawned. 

“Poor Frank...” she commented, taking Frank’s plate, “All three of you should get some rest.” 

“You can sleep in my room.” Gerard offered, “...I’ll take the couch.” 

Frank’s eyes found Mikey’s. Mikey just smirked and looked away. 

“Come on.” Gerard said, standing up slowly, yawning himself. 

“Thanks for the pancakes, Mrs. Way.” Frank said, earning a snort from Mikey, “And uh, well, picking us up in the middle of the night.”

“Anytime, Frank.” she said warmly, “But please don’t make a habit of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Frank smiled. 

Frank followed Gerard out of the kitchen. There was a door at the foot of the stairs he hadn’t noticed when they came in. Gerard shouldered into the darkness. Frank followed him down a set of carpeted stairs. 

“Watch your step.” Gerard said, “I uh… I have a lot of shit on my floor.” 

Some sunlight filtered into the room from the high, thin windows. Frank paused to take it all in. 

Gerard hadn’t been fucking around about having shit on the floor. There was clutter everywhere. Every surface was crowded with art supplies and cups and clothes. Frank hadn’t been prepared for the paintings. They were everywhere too, all in different stages of completion. There was a couch, too, set up in front of an ancient-looking television surrounded by DVD cases. 

“I would’ve tidied up if I’d known you were coming.” Gerard said, looking at Frank as he ran a hand through his hair. His voice was devoid of a certain level of energy Frank had grown used to hearing in it. 

“I’m glad you didn’t.” said Frank. 

Frank crossed the room and sat on the edge of Gerard’s unmade bed. 

“Do you need anything?” Gerard asked. 

“Nah.” Frank said, “Your mom is super awesome, by the way. She-”

“Then I’m gonna go.” Gerard interrupted, not meeting Frank’s eyes. He turned to leave. 

“Wait.” Frank pleaded, “Gerard?”

Gerard froze in his tracks.

“Yeah...” Gerard answered. He turned around slowly, and considered Frank with a tired look. 

Frank patted the spot beside him on the bed. Gerard hesitated for a moment longer before giving in and sitting down beside Frank. 

“It wasn’t... a hallucination, man.” Frank said carefully, “Something ran in front of your car. I don’t know what the fuck it was, but I saw it, too.”

“Frank… Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Gerard begged, expression pained, “Or, I guess it is tomorrow, but like, just… fuckin’  _ later. _ ”

“Fine.” Frank conceded, “But will you just… stay here? Don’t go.”

“You want me to... stay?” Gerard asked, sounding genuinely confused. 

“I don’t wanna be alone.” Frank explained, “I don’t know this place, but I know you, so just-” 

“Okay.” Gerard said. 

Frank reached out a hand and tugged on the sleeve of Gerard’s hoodie, beckoning Gerard to lay down with him. It felt good to be horizontal. Gerard’s bed could’ve been the least comfortable bed in the world and Frank would’ve still relished in it. Gerard untangled the blankets and threw them over the two of them. Frank tugged the hem of the blanket up over his shoulders and turned to face Gerard. 

For the first time since he’d dragged himself out of Gerard’s car, deep in the woods, he felt warm. 

Gerard stared back at him for a moment. His eyes were beautiful and intense. He reached out a hand to grasp Frank’s upper arm through the blanket. 

“I’m really sorry.” Gerard said, “For almost killing you, I mean.” 

“Gerard,” Frank admonished, “You obviously didn’t mean to.” 

“Just let me be sorry, Frank.” Gerard requested, squeezing Frank’s arm. 

“Alright.” Frank said, “But…” He stopped himself, thinking better of protesting. 

“Alright.” he repeated. 

“Thank you.” Gerard said, finally closing his eyes, “‘M so fuckin’ sorry.” 

And with that, Frank let himself drift off too, with the weight of Gerard’s hand still on his arm. 

**Author's Note:**

> I once described this story to my friend as "ok so there's a monster, but it's not ABOUT the monster. it's about Gerard being a sober artist and there just also HAPPENS to be a monster." this genre is called 'soft cryptid' and it is my contribution to gay horror. there's more to this story I just have to edit-editeidtiediedtiedieitied-die. ok! thanks for reading! ;)


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